Archangel's Light (Guild Hunter #14)(18)

It was walking at Suyin’s side that had wrought this outcome—and fuck, that knowledge hurt.

Angling his body to look at the case on the very top, Aodhan held his hands to either side. Speckled with splashes of blue and green and white paint, they matched the scene taking shape on the canvas to his right. He’d always been a messy painter—and he’d never needed his subject in front of him to paint it—or them.

Aodhan’s artistic eye caught moments, held them.

Today, he’d chosen to work on a scene from the Refuge that made Illium frown. Not realizing he was doing it, he leaned in toward the canvas as Aodhan leaned in to more clearly see the image on the case . . . and the edge of Aodhan’s wing brushed his chest.

He jerked back. “Sorry.”

Aodhan scowled. “Why?”

Illium had nothing to say to that, because one thing nothing and no one would ever steal away: though Illium’s mother had held Aodhan often during his recovery, Illium was the first person whose touch Aodhan had actively sought when he emerged from his long sleep.

His fingers tingled at the memory of feeling Aodhan’s skin against his after so very long, his chest compressing. Unable to stand the deluge of memory, of emotion, he stared at the half-finished scene on the canvas instead of replying.

It could’ve been many parts of the Refuge, but it wasn’t.

That small stone house backed by jagged mountains, the flowers that bloomed outside, the path that led deeper into the Refuge. “That’s our house.” The place where Illium had grown up under the loving eye of his mother—and where Aodhan had spent as much or even more time than he did at his actual home.

At least until they both grew older. Then, they’d been assigned their own small aeries in the gorge, alongside others near their age—though they’d both visited Illium’s mother each and every day that they were in the Refuge, even staying with her during the worst times, when she forgot that they were no longer little angels.

Once they became permanent members of Raphael’s team, they’d been offered rooms within his Refuge stronghold, but had declined. For one hundred years more, they’d kept the aeries—and taken youthful delight in racing and diving in the gorge.

“Batchelor pads,” Elena had said with a laugh the last time she’d been in the Refuge. “I can definitely see the appeal.”

Not quite the right term since the aeries weren’t limited to a specific gender, but correct in tone, since no families called them home. For the most part, the aeries were favored by lone angels—with the age range skewing younger, though it did also house a complement of older angels who preferred their own company.

“You should paint the aeries,” he said without thinking. “At night, when the lights are sparkling inside and angels are diving in and out.”

He spotted something else in the painting before Aodhan could respond.

“What’s that blotch of blue over—” Breaking off, he glared at his friend. “Is that supposed to be me?”

Aodhan’s grin was a familiar thing that appeared too rarely. “Only the very beginning of you. I’m trying to capture that moment when you climbed onto the roof to try to fly off it, with me as the designated holder of the ladder.”

Memory bloomed. Of how hard it had been to get himself up to the top with his wings heavy weights on his back, of how long it had taken them to move the big wooden ladder—he still wasn’t sure quite how they’d managed that—and of how angry his mother had been when she’d caught them before he made it to the top.

“I had it planned,” he said. “I was going to land in the soft jasmine bushes below if I didn’t succeed in taking flight over the short distance.”

Aodhan laughed, the sound rippling over Illium like a song too long unheard. “I don’t recall you bringing up that piece of genius while Eh-ma was giving us both the dressing-down of our lives.”

Illium snorted. “I knew I’d be in even worse trouble for the possible accidental destruction of her plants.” Another burst of memory. “She didn’t believe you when you confessed to coming up with the plan.”

“That’s because she knew I’d never come up with anything that put you in danger.”

Their eyes met, the connection so profound, so full of shared memories that it stole Illium’s breath . . . and then Aodhan’s words penetrated, stab wounds to his heart. He knew his friend hadn’t meant them that way, but while Aodhan had spent his childhood and young adulthood trying to keep Illium safe, Illium hadn’t been able to do the same the one time it mattered.

He hadn’t been beside his friend.

And they’d lost Aodhan, first to a monster and her monstrous lover, then to his nightmares.

Aodhan’s smile faded, his eyes scanning Illium’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Shaking his head, Illium stepped back. “You should use the light before it fades,” he said, his voice husky. “We’ll have to head down to dinner soon.” Suyin had asked all her senior people to gather after their break for a short meeting over a quick dinner.

“Vetra should arrive toward the end, be able to brief you regarding the hamlet,” the archangel had said. “Prior to that, we need to go over the entire plan for the move one last time, ensure there are no holes in our strategy.”